


Shining Star

by besanii



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Crying, I really don't know, KPop AU, M/M, Minor Violence, Reunions, but not really, just some shoving around, les amis are basically super junior, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besanii/pseuds/besanii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I saw the video."  Had his voice always been that hoarse? Enjolras can’t remember the last time he’d heard his voice in person.  ”I - I’m–”</p><p>"You didn’t come."  Grantaire falls silent.  It makes Enjolras want to scream.  "I had to beg and lie to the company when they found out who the ticket was for and <i>you didn’t come</i>.”</p><p> <br/>Grantaire left the group and Enjolras is still reeling, ten months on.</p><p>A KPop AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shining Star

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what possessed me to write this, sorry. Inspired by the song [_Spirit_ by Kim Heechul](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RC286Ms2Jnk) (of Super Junior), who is my headcanon Enjolras. And also by [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3TdVtI1LXs) of Heechul crying during the performance of _Shining Star_ after Han Geng leaves the company.
> 
> I apologise profusely for even attempting to write this. You may take it as seriously as you wish (or not at all).

The apartment is dark and quiet when he lets himself in.  It’s three in the morning and the others are still out celebrating the final night of their world tour with a few drinks down at the local pub.  They’d asked if he wanted to tag along, but had not pressed the issue when he declined.  Ignoring their pitying gazes and sympathetic smiles, he had flagged down a taxi and made his own way back to their company-provided accommodations in the quieter part of town.

He flicks the switch and the dim entry light blinks to life.

 

\--

  
  
( This time last year, they had stumbled through the doorway together, arms wrapped around each other and giggling like drunken teenagers.

"Shh, you’ll wake the managers," he hissed, pressing a finger to his lips.  "We’ll get in so much trouble."

They made hushing noises at each other and kept giggling, until they had stumbled back into their shared bedroom. )

 

\--

 

He drops his bag in the foyer after he toes off his shoes and the heavy thud resounds loudly in the emptiness.  There’s an answering rustle at the other end of the living room.  He tenses.

"Who’s there?"

"Enjolras?"

A tall, looming figure unfolds itself from the squashy armchair by the bookshelf and he freezes.  He recognises the sturdy frame, even when shrouded in shadow, and his throat constricts.  He tastes an acrid bitterness -  _bile?_  - in his mouth and it makes him want to gag.  He holds himself still as the figure approaches.

 

\--

  
  
( “I won’t be gone long.  Just two weeks.  You’ll barely notice my absence.”

He let him brush a stray lock of hair from his brow gently and frowned at the two large suitcases sitting beside them in the foyer.

"You’re taking an awful lot of stuff for a two week vacation back home."

He laughed.  ”Souvenirs, Enjolras.  I haven’t seen my family in two years –their list of requests is about a mile long.”

He hitches the rucksack over his shoulder and kicks one of the suitcases out of the way so he can move closer.  Enjolras automatically leans forward to catch his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.  When they part, there is a curious melancholy expression in his eyes.

"Goodbye, Enjolras." )

 

\--

 

"What are you doing here, Grantaire?" he says.

Enjolras fixes him with a steely glare, arms folded protectively over his chest to stop himself from hunching over.  There is guilt written all over his face, visible in the dim lighting, and he bites his lower lip.  It takes all of Enjolras’ willpower not to follow the movement, instead training his eyes to remain on Grantaire’s.

"I saw the video."   _Had his voice always been that hoarse?_  Enjolras can’t remember the last time he’d heard his voice in person.  ”I - I’m–”

"You didn’t come."  Grantaire falls silent.  It makes Enjolras want to scream.  "I had to beg and lie to the company when they found out who the ticket was for and  _you didn’t come.”_

_\--_

  
( He looked around at the others, at their shocked and betrayed expressions.  He looked back down at the letter on the table and tried to tell himself that this was all a joke in poor taste.  He didn’t realise his hands were shaking until Combeferre reached over and clasped them in his own.

"Grantaire is officially suing the company for the right to terminate his contract," their manager said stiffly from his position behind Enjolras’ chair.  "He’s not coming back."

They all turned, as one, to him.  He stared back at them numbly.

"I didn’t know," he said.  "He never said anything."

Their expressions melted into pity and it’s too much.  He pushed to his feet and stumbled past them, into their –  _his_  – bedroom.  He didn’t come out for a week. )  
  
\--  
  


"I couldn’t come."  Enjolras scoffs, but Grantaire’s voice grows louder.  "I wanted to, Enjolras,  _believe me_  – but I couldn’t.”

"Why not?"

Grantaire looks torn.  He bites his lip again, clenches his fists and looks away.  An irrational bolt of fear strikes through Enjolras, the same fear of  _losing him_  that has been his constant companion this past year.  He doesn’t let himself move.  Finally, Grantaire speaks again.

"I didn’t think I could bear it," he says.  The words are whispered into the darkness like a confession.  It makes Enjolras’ heart clench.  "Seeing you all up there.  It would’ve been too much."

He looks back at Enjolras and there’s so much sadness and pain in his eyes that Enjolras almost forgives him.  Almost.  But it’s been ten months since he’d last spoken to Grantaire – ten months since they’d stood here, in this very spot, and Grantaire had told him he’d be home soon.  It makes him incandescently angry.

 

\--

  
  
( He stepped onto the stage wearing the same white suit as the rest of the group.  His was the only one shrouded by a black, hooded cloak, which he had pulled over his head to hide the golden curls.  He took his seat on the platform raised amongst the audience and began to comb through the sea of faces.

He had been very careful selecting the seat.  This was the one number he would be able to get close interaction with the audience and he had picked the seat especially for that reason.  His heart plummeted when his eyes landed on it.

The seat was empty.

The song started to play, the familiar keyboard introduction causing a cheer to erupt from the audience as Courfeyrac’s voice joined the music.  He closed his eyes and fought the urge to cry, willing the burning behind his eyes away even as they enter the chorus.

_We will always be together, until the end of time._

That was when the tears fell. )  
  


\--

 

He stalks forward and shoves Grantaire with both hands.  Grantaire stumbles and doesn’t fight back, bowing his head and putting himself at Enjolras’ mercy.  This only makes Enjolras angrier.  He starts beating his fists against Grantaire’s chest, finally –  _finally –_ allowing himself to cry.

"You fucking  _bastard_ , Grantaire–” he grabs a fistful of Grantaire’s shirt and shoves him again.  ”– _ten months!_  You just walked out of that door and you didn’t – you didn’t –”

He’s sobbing.  His face is twisted and unflattering, but he can’t bring himself to care when Grantaire is  _here_  and Grantaire is  _letting Enjolras punch him_ and it’s been  _ten whole months_  since he’d been this close to Grantaire.  He pushes Grantaire up against the wall of the corridor and leans his head against his chest.

"You’re a dick."  He feels Grantaire’s breath hitch, a sob caught in his throat.  "You didn’t answer your phone.  Never replied to my messages.  You didn’t say  _anything_.  You just left.  We had to find out through the  _boss_  that you weren’t just quitting – that you were  _suing the company_.”

"I couldn’t," Grantaire says.  His arms come up to wrap around Enjolras’ back.  "I just – every time I wanted to, I turned to look at you all and I just…couldn’t find the words.  I wasn’t – I hadn’t planned on doing it then.  But one day, something just…snapped.  I had to leave."

Enjolras knows, has known all along, about how the label plays favourites.  He, Courfeyrac and Jehan are the favourites in their group – they bring in the most money and have the most fans – while Grantaire, the strange foreigner with the stilted speech, gets shunted to one side.  He’s seen the way Grantaire’s face falls when jobs are being distributed and he ends up with nothing for the week, no television appearances, no events, no publicity.  He understands why he left.  What he doesn’t understand is–

"Why didn’t you tell  _me_?”

Grantaire really doesn’t know.  He tightens his grip on Enjolras and buries his face in Enjolras’ neck.

"I’m sorry."

 

\--

 

  
( “I just want the guys to know that I’m so grateful for each and every day I spent with them,” Grantaire said, looking straight into the camera.  Those familiar blue eyes seemed to fix on him and Enjolras bit down on his thumb as he stared at the computer screen.  ”I want them to know that this wasn’t about them – it was all me.”

The interviewer seguewayed into a conversation about Grantaire’s solo endeavours, but Enjolras barely heard the words.  He curled up in his desk chair with his arms around his knees.

"Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t happy?" )

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://besanii.tumblr.com)


End file.
